


the what-ifs and the should-haves (are not kind things)

by charlotteicewolf77



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Drama, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I'm having scotty feels alright, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-04-09 13:01:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4349798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlotteicewolf77/pseuds/charlotteicewolf77
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scotty is not a religious man. The most pondering he does on anything besides engineering-related things is about what to have in his sandwich. But as John O' Callaghan said: the what-ifs and the should-haves will eat your brain and the idea of parallel universes weigh heavily on Scotty's mind. </p><p>Or: The equation links it all up. Scotty sometimes wishes the thread snapped years ago</p>
            </blockquote>





	the what-ifs and the should-haves (are not kind things)

In one little house in Aberdeen, a four year old Montgomery Scott watched a corny sci-fi movie to the back drop of his father’s tools. It is the holidays, and his mother and sister were out. His mother often comments that he should invite a school friend round, but he says no. None of them like finding out how their toys work as much as he does. And when he suggests dismantling Billy Peters’ prized star ship toy the older lad practically screams.

His dad doesn’t mind that he doesn’t want to play with other children. Is quite content to let him do what he pleases so long as it ‘isnae too dangerous.’ Scotty can live with that.

In the movie, the captain of the good star ship is trying to find out how to rescue his friends on the bad star ship, but the bad guys won’t drop out of warp. (Scotty is a bit hazy on the details, but warp is when a ship goes _really_ fast.) And he wonders why they don’t just use the transporter. So he asks his Da. “They cannae do tha’ whilst ships are in warp,” the elder man shrugs. “Engineers have nae found the way.”

“I bet I could,” Scotty tells him, confident with childish wisdom. “You just watch me, Da. I’ll be the first ‘un to find it.”

 

~0~

 

In one tiny dorm room in Starfleet Academy, an 18 year old Scotty meets Keenser. They keep mostly to themselves the first month. Not unfriendly, just the awkward first stages of bonding. Keenser doesn’t speak very much anyway. It’s fine, Scotty has _so almost cracked it._ He’s _this close_ to the basics of the transwarp equation and just needs to work out some of the other things. Once he gets to serve on a star ship and spends a couple of years tinkering, he’ll get it.

One night, he walks in and the little alien is spread out on the floor, schematics all around and Scotty asks, “D’ya need some help?”

Keenser says- well, nods- yes and they bond.

But Keenser gets it. He is like Scotty. Maths is beautiful, freeing equations that the harsh PADD typeface can never do justice. Sentient, breathing numbers stay with them all through the academy and the 12 years serving on various star ships afterwards.

And, at 34, Montgomery Scott cracks it.

 

~0~

 

“Bloody dog!” a 35 year old Mr Scott curses. The words take shape in misty breaths- the heating is on the brink again, and Keenser is busy trying to sweet talk the powers that be into sending more food. If only the pissing animal hadn't disappeared, they wouldn’t be freezing their arses off on Delta Vega. As it stands, they’re there for another 12 months, at least. Scotty just hopes Admiral Archer isn’t the type to hold grudges. Although now that he’s thought that, he probably will be. Sod’s law and all that. The back of his hand falls victim to a wayward piece of metal and he lets out a string of profanity that would have his Grandma turning in her grave. He’ll apologise to her later. Once he’s got the bloody heating going again. With it it’s cold; without it it’s fucking freezing.

 

~0~

 

At 34, he didn’t crack the equation. But he thought he had and Keenser had thought he had too. And now he has all the time he wants to figure out what went wrong. He’s been trying, between fixing the heaters, napping, eating, drinking and doing the piss poor excuse for work Starfleet wants. But he and Keenser have been fixing the Delta Vega transporter and, in the last few days, Scotty just hasn’t had it in him to look at the equation. Alcohol, usually his young, flexible mistress helping him to make giant leaps. Ideas flowing like liquid from one to the next; bring lightning bolts of realisation. When he’s drunk, the equations aren’t beautiful swirls but soft, languid waves and all he has to do is close his eyes and plunge his hand in and follow the trail. Now he can’t be arsed to drink and his grandmother- great, Aberdonian matriarch she was- would definitely be rolling in her grave.

Scotty fixes the heating, goes to patch up his hand. Keenser turns up halfway through, eye twitching in that way that means he’s grumbling again. “Och, I know, I know: be more careful,” Scotty sighs. Keenser ties a knot in the bandage- for some reason his tall, hat-wearing friend isn’t using the dermal regenerator- and Scotty flops backwards, too tired and bored to do anything.

 

It’s not that Scotty isn’t used to setbacks, most of his ideas for improving things go wrong somewhere along the line. And it isn’t really _anything_ at all, which is the problem. He puts it down to the two of them being on this shit hole for a year now, and goes to sleep thinking of little green aliens and star ships.

 

~0~

 

When Scotty wakes up, huddling in his jacket and hat pulled down over his ears, the equation is _breathing_. He blinks once, twice, sure he’s frowning but he can’t feel what his face is up to. On screen, the transwarp equation is moving and _taunting_ him. And he _knows this_ ; he knows his equation and how to solve it. The answer is _there_ , just shimmering in a bubble he doesn’t dare look at for fear it pops. Scotty closes his eyes and tries to think of something else and lets the bubble float nearer.

And yes, yes, yes, it’s _there_ , he’s got it, he’s got the answer. He sits up as if he’s been electrocuted, turns to the screen, ready to fix it but then… it goes. He blinks and it tumbles away with the wind that buffets the walks, buried under the mountains of snow. “No,” Scotty breathes because he’s so sure _he had it this time_. If he was a different man, he might cry. Instead he just sits and stares at the screen, the electronic cage holding his equation safe so that at least can’t get away.

Keenser turns up- out of nowhere, apparently- and gives some concerned grunts and looks. He pulls Scotty back down onto the bed by the ends of his scarf, pats his hair and mumbles something. The engineer hears the words ‘sick’ and ‘fever’ but is too distracted by his loss to work out what they mean.

 

~0~

 

Spock (as he later learns old, original Spock) explains that the equation works if space is moving and it clicks. It _clicks_ , yes, it works, it works. The numbers come alive and swirl around him in mathematical brilliance and it’s the answer. He gets it now, the possibilities of what happens now unfolding in a myriad of lives and paths. He acts calm in front of the others. “Look at that,” but it’s _brilliant_. And when he’s sorted out whatever the hell James Kirk wants, he’ll come back and get Keenser and their pet tribble and they’ll serve on the Enterprise. It’ll be like it was before their exile and he’ll tinker and look after the lady, make her the best ship in Starfleet.

An almost 36 year old lieutenant commander Montgomery Scott can see a new, exciting life ahead.

 

~0~

 

After the catalyst of old Spock and Captain Kirk, Scotty can understand why they say ‘be careful what you wish for’. Because he was on Delta Vega for almost two years and he’s changed. He can hardly stand crowds, now. Or even just sitting at the table with too many people in the mess hall. He can’t go wherever, whenever without being questioned, he can’t fall asleep whenever he wants. The Enterprise is a beautiful lady, but she’s loud and humming constantly and there’s no wind in space. He doesn’t miss the cold one bit, but there are too many people. Too little things to do and still not enough time to tinker with his new equation (it’d come in handy for the next palaver they get into.) Keenser climbs high up and Scotty can’t find him to yell ‘get down’. Too many people and too many social norms to reacquaint himself with. And now he has time to think, and other people on the ship, he can’t drink when he doesn’t want to think. And Keenser’s alien biology means he can’t wake him up for a midnight chat. Scotty can’t help but think about parallel universes.

In a hypothetical way. Not a ‘do they really exist’ way, more a ‘what-if’ way.

He hasn’t given them much thought since the academy, so he does some searching. There isn’t much to search, most of the journals are about if they exist. Scotty doesn’t want that.

At the end of it, the words are running through his head. Harsh black lettering on repeat, nothing like the swirling cursive of equations and maths.

 

~0~

 

Jim Kirk is a firework of a man, but he doesn’t get it. Scotty can tell within five minutes if someone gets it- him. And the captain is a blazing flame of yellow, but he doesn’t get the sentience of numbers like Scotty and Keenser.

Spock is clever, cleverer than Scotty and he’s good with all sorts. But he is a Vulcan. Maybe only half, but wild emotions stand no chance against a life time on rigid logic. Numbers are just numbers to him, and the idea of them being anything else is ‘illogical’.

Sulu, meanwhile, is an excellent pilot, and whilst he might know more about engineering than the average helmsman, he doesn’t get it. Everyone has their calling, and Sulu’s is piloting and botany, not machines. Scotty doesn’t hold it against him, he’s still an excellent poker player.

Uhura is about words, and they can go together good with numbers. But not this time, this time the flowing script of linguistics doesn’t tessellate with the numbers and they might have fun together occasionally, but it’s not the same.

Chekov, now, _Chekov gets it._ He’s a navigator, the youngest Starfleet member to ever serve on a star ship and he’s _clever_. Not clever like everyone on the chip is clever, but genius clever. The sort of clever only young people can be, when they’re running on adrenaline and hope. Chekov- Pavel, he asked to be called that, he thinks the laddie might have a wee crush on him, or is it on Sulu? Scotty hasn’t listened to the engineering grapevine in a while- is a genius, and Scotty doesn’t call many people that. The plan to save the ship was brilliant, and he saved all those Vulcans. That takes more than a little grey matter up in your noggin. But Ch- Pavel, he has had cry drunkenly on his shoulder after failing to save Spock’s poor old mother, and his brain full of what-ifs. Scotty can’t burden him with his thoughts of parallel universes. It isn’t right.

Bones is the only member of the medical department Scotty knows well and he’s a damn fine drinking buddy. They get together semi-regularly, drink and talk. Bones is good company, and he knows how much to drink to get to the nice, warm stage and no further. And he knows how much to drink to makes things easier and how much to totally forget it all. All in all, he seems like a good person to talk about parallel universes with.

That night, Scotty gets the exact amount of drunk to where he’ll talk. He could fake it, but the good doctor also knows about pretending to be a different amount of drunk than you are and the chief engineer doesn’t want to upset him.

“Wha’ d’ya think of parallel universes?”

“Huh?”

“Ya know. Ev’ry decision ya make creates a new universe wit’ the other decision you make. Wasnae in the medical school, was it?”

“Very funny,” Bones grumbled. “’Nd I think they’re a load of shit.”

Scotty opens his mouth to say more, but even in his inebriated state he recognises the darkness those eyes have taken on and stays quiet. Bones gets drunker than ever before that night and Scotty decides they won’t drink together again for a while and goes back to Keenser and his machines and equations.

 

~0~

 

Scotty is not a religious man. The most pondering he does on anything besides something related to engineering is deciding what to have in his sandwich. But as the Irish author John O’ Callaghan had said: the what-ifs and the should-haves will eat your brain and Scotty can’t stop thinking. He doesn’t want to drink, that’ll bring up the oil spill on the sea of his ideas, so he stares at the ceiling until he goes to sleep, wishes Keenser woke up in the middle of the night.

But he can’t stop _thinking_.

In one universe, he never watches that movie at five years old. He decides to help his Da with the car radio. In that universe, he may or may not join Starfleet. But it doesn’t matter because there are _billions_ of universes with all the possibilities and lives that never happened.

In yet another universe, he gives up his transwarp theories and spends his life working on star ships. He and Keenser are never exiled to the cold hell hole of Delta Vega. Or maybe they are later on, for another thing. Or maybe it’s just Scotty who is exiled, because Keenser always had a greater sense of self-preservation than he did. On particularly dark nights, he thinks of the universe where he doesn’t use the transporter on the dog, but on Keenser. Or another of the hoard of young cadets who volunteered to be the metaphorical guinea pig.

But there’s no universe where any of them live, because the equations were wrong. Scotty got it wrong. And it’s not the first time and it most definitely won’t be the last time he got it properly wrong. So wrong someone might have died. No one did of course- there’s no proof Porthos 10th isn’t safely pissing on trees somewhere- but in another universe they _did_. Maybe, even a universe where several people died. Where, for some insane, crazy reason he could have made in his own universe because he is just that. Drawbacks of being a genius. And in that universe, that group of people die. They’re beamed somewhere that they can’t live, or where the people are aliens. Or their molecules are mixed together in transit.

Scotty doesn’t want to think about it. It _didn’t happen_ , it will never happen. Not to him. It didn’t happen to him.

He sits up in bed, throws the PADD on the floor and does a bit of fiddling. Pretty soon the room us cold- not cold like freezing arses and icicles on Delta Vega, just a bit nippy. He pulls his old green hat down over his ears. That’s better.

 

~0~

 

The captain requests a meeting with him and he and Keenser share a look as he goes. “Somethin’ need fixin’?” Scotty asks, falling back to the welcoming familiarity of machinery and oil. “Replicators, transporter, one of the consoles on the bridge?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Jim- well, it’s not really assuring him, because Scotty knows if it isn’t machines it’s people. ”Just…” he trails off and the elder’s hands clench into clammy fists. “A few members of the crew have been talking- they’re a bit concerned about you. Said you haven’t been your usual self lately.”

Scotty doesn’t have to deny it, he does anyway. “Ach, poppycock, captain,” he dismisses, glad Keenser isn’t around to say any different. “There isnae anythin’ wrong. But I’ve been thinkin’, an’ some of the new journals have been rattling me thinkin’ cap…” he starts to explain some of the things he’s recently come up with. Knows he’s won when Jim’s eyes go blank and glassy. “Ah, anyway,” he acts sheepish. “Do nae worry, Captain. All ya need to know is this lil’ lassie will be workin’ even better soon enough.”

He looks happier when he leaves and Scotty lets out a tidal wave of a sigh.

 

Everyone accepts Jim’s explanation of ‘He’s tinkering. Don’t ask unless you’re suffering from insomnia’ and Scotty turns up in the mess hall slightly more often. It’s fine, all fine until the next time they get accosted by aliens.

 

~0~

 

It isn’t as fine as Scotty likes to pretend. His mind will slip to parallel universes when he’s in the middle of routine, monotonous repairs and more often than not he’ll be down to sick bay with a burn or a cut or other injury. One time, Crewman Parks accidentally knocks a piece of railing over the edge of the catwalk. He had been accessing the control panel partially behind it, and the metal cylinder gives the Scotsman passing underneath a hefty wallop.

Down to sick bay he goes again, assisted by Keenser and a near-tears Parks, holding a rag to his bleeding head. “What the hell have you done, you damn idiot!” McCoy snaps, sitting him down on a bed.

Very miraculously, he doesn’t have a concussion, but Bones orders him to take the rest of the day off anyway. Scotty protests, “I cannae lie around with things to be done!” But the doctor won’t hear of it and threatens to make him stay there a week if he doesn’t agree.

 

“Come and talk to me after ya shift ends?” he asks Keenser and maybe there’s something in his eyes because the little green aliens nods without arguing. He needs to talk to Keenser. They haven’t had a good talk in a while even though they’re some semblance of partners. It’s… sad.

 

 

 

~0~

 

 

At 36 years old, Scotty can’t read the reports he’s been meaning to catch up on, or his technical journals. Or anything, because his head hurts too much. He tries to sleep, ignoring the equation burnt on his eyelids.

 

It used to be his way out of Delta Vega. All he could think about, but now he’s got it- with help from old Spock, so really it wasn’t even him- and he’s been tinkering, sure, giving the lovely lady the finest Spit and polish a star ship’s ever had. But he’s got the answer to the transwarp equation now, and Scotty’s a bit of a loose cannon with nothing to do. The ideas of parallel universes have pushed any thoughts about furthering the transporter’s capabilities so far out of his mind they mas as well be in the next quadrant.

 

Scotty falls asleep, a frown on his face and a pain in his head.

 

 

~0~

 

 

 

Keenser is standing on the transporter pad, resplendent in his dress uniform. Scotty reads out his speech to the gathered crowd and then jumps down the steps over to the console. A deathly silence falls as he keys in the co-ordinates. Keenser disappears, molecules disintegrating. “And he should reappear over there,” Scotty points. There’s tension. A dramatic pause.

 

Keenser doesn’t reappear.

 

People start muttering and it gets louder, until there’s shouting and the security team have practically got a mob on their hands and Scotty carries on staring at where Keenser should be.

 

He never does come back and Scotty starts screaming, screaming…

 

 

 

Until he wakes up, but he’s still screaming and it makes his head hurt, but where’s Keenser?

 

Oh, _God_ , he scrambles off the bed because _where is he?_ The duvet catches his ankle and pulls him down, down into the sea of ideas that failed him and he’s drowning. He’s drowning and he can’t find Keenser. Scotty panics, because what if It is all a dream? What if he’s actually in this parallel universe and Keenser is dead? His little green molecules scattered all over and dead, not even alive to be suffocated. Or maybe alive to feel himself be pulled apart, a split second where he realises Scotty’s fucked it up.

 

The carpet feels rough like Keenser’s hand when Scotty holds it but he won’t be able to hold it again. The pain in his head increases and the smell of engine grease and oil is how Keenser usually smells.

 

But Keenser isn’t here.

 

His stomach rolls and he heaves, brings up God knows what and the smell makes him do it again. The back of his throat is burning and his eyes tear and his fingers clench in now-sticky carpet as his body fights to expel the thick green bile. Scotty tries to push himself away from the mess but his arms tremble and he falls back down, retching pitifully as he doe but it’s just the dry heaves because there’s nothing in him. He’s burning and presses himself against the metal bed sorely for the coldness.

 

The door chimes but he can’t be arsed to answer, only it carries on making a noise and he eventually says ‘enter’ just to shut it _up_.

 

Whoever the fuck it is comes in and Scotty doesn’t care who it is, wants to open his mouth to tell the  them to fuck right off but he’s tired and he wants someone even if they can’t bring the little alien back.

 

A rough hand pats his hair and there’s mumbling about ‘sick’ and ‘doctor’ but Scotty pays it no mind except… He’s back on Delta Vega again, with only the snow and the tribble and-  he head shoots up and eyes snap open and there’s Keenser in all his green craggy glory. Scotty finally knows the true meaning of happiness, now, if anyone asks.

“Good God,” he mumbles, before grabbing hold of his hand and yanking him close.

 

Keenser gives a grumble, “Calling the doctor,” but Scotty doesn’t want anyone else in case they drag them apart.

 

“’S alright,” he tries to make it sound good. “Jus’ a wee dream is all, aye?”

 

It’s not ‘aye’ for the little alien, who somehow manages to drag him so he's sitting upright against the opposite wall; away from the mess he's made.

 

 

Once he’s done mopping up the floor, he comes back over, helps Scotty himself up and back onto the bed. The other definitely hears the word ‘idiot’ thrown about a few times but doesn’t care. He holds onto his hand again and doesn’t let go. Almost feels like crying. “Talk,” Keenser orders him. “I’m listening. You haven’t been right.”

 

Relief floods through: Keenser noticed, even though they haven’t been together like they used to. It’s a reminder that Keenser still gets it.

 

So he talks. He explains about how a part of him misses Delta Vega and just the two of them, and the sound of the cold wind battering the walls outside. How there was always something to do. With no one to give him weird looks for working strange hours. More quietly, he explains how he can’t bear crowds anymore. Not that he thought people were the be all and end all before, of course, but _still_ …

 

Scotty laments how hardly anyone on board understands the numbers and equation like he and Keenser. How he suspects Pavel Chekov likes him,  that is if he's been listening to the grape vine that is the engineering staff right and if it hasn’t changed in the past few weeks. Unable to even consider processing the awkwardness that will accompany the reality if Pavel really does like him that way.

 

And, after a long silence during which Keenser moves to snuggling against him, Scotty tells him all about the parallel universes. How badly he could have so easily fucked it all up. How he could have lost Keenser and, even though it didn’t happen to him, it could have done. Old Spock didn’t seem to know who Keenser was, after all, so he thinks the him who was him before the timelines changed didn’t have a Keenser. And he can’t help but wonder why.

 

And he tells his partner about the dream he was having; well, alright so more a nightmare. About how Keenser never came back.

 

Keenser scoffs at that, says something to the effect of ‘As if I would ever be stupid enough to volunteer for that’ and tugs the (new) blanket up over them both.

 

“Daft man,” he smiles at Scotty. Scotty smiles back.

 

 


End file.
